Evil Remains
by nurzubesuch
Summary: Shawn was a fake psychic for so many years. But is it possible that this has changed now? Or how else does he explain the ghost he suddenly sees in the street? char.death


**Evil remains**

It was early in the morning. Far too early actually. Shawn had no idea why he was on the streets already, why he hadn´t been able to sleep any longer. He vaguely could remember that he had had a bad dream but he couldn´t recall what it had been about. Now he was walking along the streets after he had grabbed a quick breakfast at Starbucks. His own fridge was empty since yesterday and he hadn´t had the time to refill it yet. The last case he and Gus had worked for the police had consumed a lot of his time. But it had been worth it. After he had found the last necessary clue and faked a few visions about who the murderer was, Lassie and Jules had been able to arrest the killer – a frustrated secretary who hadn´t been able to stand that his colleague had been promoted instead of him.

It had been tricky though. The man had left false clues to indicate the murder had been committed by a bookmaker the victim had contacts to. But after a visit in that bookmaker´s office Shawn had known that this lead had been a fraud. Anyway. The case was solved. Usually a reason for Shawn to sleep good and long. So why by the great pineapple was he on his feet so damn early?

Since it was obvious that he wouldn´t get an answer to rhetorical questions like that, he could as well try to get the cobwebs out of his brain. He stopped at a vending machine and got himself a smoothy. A nice cool soft drink was always good to get a sleepy mind awake. No, it wasn´t pineapple. Not this time. This time it was mango-cherry. His second favourite flavour. The first sip already did its work to his brain. Soon the world around him seemed less early and a little more friendly. That was until he saw the dead man that came running at him.

Shawn froze in his steps, almost choked on his smoothy. Did he have an eye defect? But it was true. The guy in the jogging suit that came running at him through all the other pedestrians (who didn´t notice him a bit by the way) was dead. A ghost to be precise. That was the only logical explanation why he could be transparent. Shawn could see right through him. Still he noticed the blood all over the guy´s chest. It was faint like the whole guy and it looked rather black than red because of that pale blue shimmer he radiated. But it was blood no doubt. This guy had been shot. Several times. And he was dead. Dead for gods sake. Still he was running through the streets. Running right at Shawn.

The fake psychic, the man who had claimed before the police he worked for, that he could talk to ghosts and spirits of dead people on different occasions, opened his mouth to scream. But before any sound came out of his mouth the ghost, a real one, was already at him and – as strange as it was since it was common sense that a ghost couldn´t touch anything – ran him right over. He stroke him halfway, the way a not looking pedestrian could knock someone over, and left a splat of blue and nastily cold something on his shirt. Shawn hit the ground and lost all the air from his lungs. His smoothy flew out of his hand and rolled over the sidewalk, spilling its delicious content until it came to rest in a corner of a building.

Shawn looked up in stunned disbelieve. Did this really happen? He must have dreamed it. Surely he had just tripped over something. But when he looked up the dead guy was still there. He looked down on him, an expression of pure confusion on his pale face. Now Shawn _was_ screaming. A ghost. A godforsaken ghost. He didn´t care if the ghost was already running again and away from him. He struggled to his feet and ran himself, ignoring all the faces that turned to him. He ran in the direction from what the ghost had come, the direction that was opposite of the direction the ghost was heading now. He was running like hell, screaming all the way.

He reached a corner, bend around it and ran into someone. He bounced back, his scream finally cut of by the unexpected impact. The next thing he knew was a familiar voice that cursed: „Dammit, Spencer."

Shawn found the person to that voice, the person he had just ran into and exhaled in relief.

„Thanks god, Lassie." he cried much to the detective´s annoyance, who was still grumbling over the coffee Shawn had just spilled all over his chest. But Shawn didn´t even notice this fact. He was still shivering after what he had just experienced. In his desperation he grabbed the detective´s sleeve and pointed back the street he had just come from. „I … I was chased by a ghost." he told him. „Back there. He was dead. I mean …"

„For gods sake, Spencer, not again." Lassiter growled. „Not so early in the morning."

„No, no, no, no." Shawn cried. „It´s not like this. I know it sounds crazy." „Oh good." Lassiter said emphasizing. „I thought _I_ need to tell you again."

„But this time I really saw a ghost. Please, you´ve got to believe me. He knocked me over, see?" he pointed at the thick liquid that was on his shirt.

„You saw a ghost?" the voice of Juliet O´Hara chipped in the talk. She joined them at the corner, looking at Shawn with concerned eyes.

„Spencer." Lassiter went on ignoring his partner. „Just because you spilled your smoothy over your shirt, doesn´t mean you get a piece of this case."

„You´ve got a case?" Shawn asked truly surprised. Lassiter just scowled at him, obviously believing the consultant tried to mock him. „I had no idea!" Shawn cried. „Honestly, I didn´t even know you were here." Just now he noticed the two police officers who were in the process of giving a statement to another detective, on the other side of the street. Something pretty big must have happened here. „I … was just walking down that street." Shawn went on. „When this jogger came at me."

„A jogger?" Juliet repeated and threw a meaningful glance at her partner.

„No, O´Hara." Lassiter warned her. „He probably saw the crime scene from some other place. He didn´t see a ghost."

„You mean there really _is_ a dead jogger?" Shawn gasped.

„And a second man." Juliet confirmed but before she could keep talking Lassiter cut her off again.

„I said no." he insisted. „Spencer, your help is not needed here. This is not even a case any longer. We´ve already covered everything up. What means you can stop pretending that you saw the victim´s ghost now. Just turn around and leave and let us handle this crime scene."

„But …"

„Good bye."

Shawn looked at Jules with pleading eyes. Inside of his chest his heart was still thudding heavily after this shock to be run over by a real ghost. Jules just looked back at him apologetic. It didn´t matter if she believed him or not. Lassiter didn´t and he wanted him to leave. It was almost funny. For the first time in his life he didn´t fake a vision and no one believed him.

„Sorry about the coffee." Shawn mumbled with a look at Lassiter´s soaked shirt. Then he turned around. There was no point in trying to convince someone that didn´t want to be convinced. He managed it to make three steps back the way he had come. Then he lost the ground under his feet and fell. From far away he could hear Juliet call his name. Then everything went dark.

...

When he opened his eyes he was staring at a white ceiling. He was lying in a bed, but it wasn´t his bed. It was much too uncomfortable for his bed and there was a metallic framework on each side. God help him, he was in a hospital.

Someone came rushing to his side when he started to move. It was Gus.

„Shawn!" he cried. „Shawn are you ok?"

Shawn reached out a hand and grabbed his friend´s sleeve. „Gus." he groaned. „Sue the owner of this vending machine in Harlow-Street. They punched something into my smoothy."

„Stay calm, Shawn." Gus tried to reason with him. „You fainted. The doctor says it´s because of the heat. You were running and your blood pressure went down."

„No, Gus." Shawn went on. „I mean it. I had a hallucination. Could only be from that smoothy. I tell you, they poisoned me."

„Shawn, what are you talking about?"

Shawn looked his friend in the eyes, his fingers clinging into the fabric of his sleeve. „Gus." he said dramatically. „I see dead people."

„You what?" Gus snapped confused and tried to get Shawn´s hand off his arm.

„That would have been cooler if there was ice coming out of my mouth." Shawn mused. „But honestly, Gus. I thought I´d seen a ghost. A real living ghost."

„Ghosts are not living." Gus argued. „And since when do you believe in stuff like that? I thought …"

„I don´t believe that I saw a ghost." Shawn argued. „Didn´t you just listen? I said …"

„Yeah. That the vending company tried to poison you. Sounds much more reasonable."

„Wait a second." Shawn whispered staring up at the ceiling again. „Lassie was there. And Jules. They were …"

„Yeah, Shawn. They were at a crime scene back then. They called an ambulance for you, when you passed out."

„How long have I been out?"

„A few hours."

Shawn took this info in and then came back to the point. „Jules said something about a dead jogger." he recalled.

„And?"

„And, Gus. The ghost I saw _was_ a jogger."

„So now it was a ghost after all?"

„No. I mean, yes. I mean … I don´t know."

„Shawn." Gus said in his usual lecturing voice. „I think you played this role of a psychic far too long. When you actually start to believe that stuff yourself …"

„I didn´t make this up, Gus."

„Then what? You really believe you saw a ghost?"

Shawn thought this over for a second. Then he flipped the cover off his legs and stood up. „I need to know what this case was about, that Lassie and Jules were investigating this morning."

„I think you need to get checked by a doctor first." Gus objected with a hand on his friend´s arm to keep him from jumping out of the bed.

Shawn, who had just discovered that he indeed wasn´t completely recovered yet, groaned when his head revolted against this quick sitting up.

„Easy." Gus said. „I call the doctor."

„Gus, you don´t seem to understand the tremendous urgency of this." Shawn cried. „I saw. A. Ghost. I need to know if I´m going crazy. Because if I do, you can call for another kind of doctor right away."

Gus, who had stopped at the door, looked at him unsure. „You want to have some tests?" he asked.

„No, dammit!" Shawn cursed. „I want to know what this crime scene was about. If there really was a dead jogger, who got shot in the chest fife or six times, then there is something really fishy going on in my head."

„All right, all right." Gus tried to calm him down. „I tell you what. You let yourself checked over by the doctor – the normal doctor – and I try to find out what there is about this case. What do you say?"

Shawn sighed. If he was honest this was the best he could have hoped for in this state. He was still too weak to go out and investigate the thing himself. So he nodded.

„All right." Gus said. It was obvious how relieved he was that he had been able to convince Shawn about his idea. „Just sit tight. I get your doctor first and then … then I see what I can find out."

„Okay." Shawn sighed and then lay back down on his sickbed. Man, he really felt like an overused sports-shoe.

...

Gus stopped his blue company-car at the visitor´s parking lot of the police station. The one space where he parked almost every time he and Shawn stopped by. After all this time it was almost their space even if there was no official sign that said so. But somehow it was always free for them. Gus appreciated this little gesture. It made them a part of this department even if they were no real employees here. He got out, closed his doors and went inside the station. When he reached the bullpen, Juliet O´Hara jumped up from her seat as soon as she saw him.

„How is Shawn?" she immediately asked him. „Did he wake up?"

„He did." Gus told her with a calming gesture. „In fact he sent me here. It´s about the case you and Lassiter were working on when he ran into you."

„Why is he asking about that?" Juliet wanted to know. „Did he have any visions about it? He said he saw the ghost of the jogger."

„So there really _was_ a jogger?" Gus asked, slightly shocked about this fact.

„Yes. But we actually don´t have a case here."

„Why not?"

„Guster!" Lassiter´s voice made Gus jump. The detective came from behind, rounded him and placed himself between him and Juliet. „What can we do for you?" he asked with a false smile of politeness.

„He came from Shawn." Juliet explained. „He´s awake."

„Oh, good." Lassiter said, still with this mocking tone in his voice. „That is good news."

Gus frowned. He knew Lassiter wasn´t Shawn´s biggest fan but this lack of concern in the detective´s voice seemed uncalled for and strangely uncaring, even for Lassiter.

„He also asked about the shooting from this morning." Juliet went on as confused as Gus. „I don´t know, maybe he has …"

„Not maybe." Lassiter said, still too polite for Gus´ taste. „The case is closed, O´Hara, you know that. No need for any further discussions."

„I know." Juliet said uncertain. „I just thought …"

„Good." Lassiter cut her off and handed her a file, he had been carrying under his arm. „Then I would appreciate it if you could finish this report for me. The chief wants it in an hour on her desk."

„Maybe you could just tell me what the case was about." Gus suggested. „Shawn is quiet upset because of that … spirit he saw."

„Upset?" now Lassiter was listening.

„Well, yeah." Gus said, now even more confused about the detective´s behavior than before. „He thinks …" and there Gus had to stop, because he had no idea how to explain what Shawn had told him earlier.

„What, Gus?" Juliet asked.

„It´s all right, O´Hara." Lassiter said. „The report, please. I handle this."

The junior detective looked at her partner unsure. But he gave her an assuring smile and she agreed to let it go. She threw Gus one last look and then went away to her desk. After she was gone Lassiter turned to Gus again. The pharmaceutical salesman had to restrain the urge to skip back from the other man.

„So now." Lassiter said. „Tell me exactly. What did Shawn see this morning?"

Gus looked at the detective kind of freaked out. Lassiter had never acted that strange before. Was he mocking him by asking what Shawn had seen in his `vision´?

„He said he saw the ghost of a dead jogger running at him and knocking him over." Gus told him despite his doubts of the intentions the head detective might have with his questions.

„That was all?" Lassiter asked.

„Well … He said the man might have been shot in the chest. Five or six times." Gus added. „Was he?"

Lassiter seemed to muse for a moment if he should answer this question. At last he nodded but he nodded in a way one would nod at a child that had asked a question that it couldn´t completely understand.

„He was." he confirmed. „But we already have the killer. Shawn doesn´t need to bother about that."

„Well … I think he doesn´t bother so much about the case than about …" he hesitated.

„About what?" Lassiter asked surprisingly gently.

If he had kept using this mocking tone from before, Gus might have refused an answer to that. But this time the detective seemed to be really interested. And maybe he would get an answer that he could tell Shawn after all if he just dropped the defence a little, Gus mused. So he decided that he couldn´t do much wrong by telling some of Shawn´s trouble. This was Lassiter after all.

„He is worried about the fact that he saw that ghost at all." he told him. „I mean … he never SAW a ghost before. He … could hear them. Sense them." Gus couldn´t believe he was really saying all this. But what could he do? Shawn had the reputation to talk to spirits. Only that for the first time this story they told was actually true. At least part of it. „But he never _saw_ one." he went on. „You see? So now he is concerned that he …"

„That he might lose his mind?" Lassiter guessed.

Gus could just nod. He was admittedly amazed by the insight Lassiter showed all the sudden. The detective nodded thoughtfully.

„I think he will try to find out what all this is about." Gus told him encouraged by this empathetic look in the detective´s eyes. „That´s why I came here. I hoped I could get some information to set his mind at rest. But now you tell me that what he saw could really be true."

„I´m not so sure if it is _true_." Lassiter argued mildly.

„Well there was a dead jogger." Gus argued. „And he was shot. Just like he saw it."

„This ghost didn´t speak to him, did it?" Lassiter asked.

Now Gus was confused. „No." he said carefully, never leaving the detective´s eyes. Was he serious with that question?

„I see." Lassiter said, astoundingly calm, as if it was completely normal to talk about possible information someone could have gotten from a ghost. He just had to mock, Gus thought. Impossible that he meant what he said. Only that he didn´t look like he was kidding. Gus had seen the man when he was mocking someone. He had been mocking him and Shawn a lot over the years. This here looked different.

„Where is he now?" Lassiter asked.

„Still at the hospital." Gus answered. „But he´ll be out soon. Ehm. Excuse me, Lassie." he then dared to say and got a waiting look from the other man. „Where are you going with this? I thought you´d rather dance with a bear … or whatever … before you believed in one of Shawn´s visions."

Lassiter gave him a funny look. „I don´t believe in his visions." he then said. „Don´t be silly, Guster. I just wanted to know what he _thinks_ what he has seen. Maybe he _did_ lose his mind."

„I don´t think so." Gus carefully stood up for his friend. „I think he might have really seen this ghost. His description was correct, wasn´t it? Maybe there is something more behind this case after all."

Lassiter looked at him estimating. „You really believe that, don´t you?" he asked.

Gus was surprised about this himself but he nodded: „Yes, I do." he said and that was the truth.

„You won´t let go of this?"

„Not until we got some answers."

Lassiter nodded. „Well, I can´t stop you then, can I?"

„No." Gus stated but with a funny feeling to it. What kind of talk was this? This wasn´t like Lassiter.

„Come with me." the detective said and was already about to lead the way.

„Where?" Gus asked him.

„I´ll shed some light on all of this for you." Lassiter said. „Maybe when you know the facts you´ll let go of this." He turned around and led the way. Gus was still stunned about the cooperation he received here. But then he followed. It didn´t help him if he just stood here and wondered. Somehow he would find out what all this was about on the way.

...

It was three thirty-three when Shawn returned to Harlow-Street. A funny time to look at on the digital wrist watch, Shawn mused. Well, at least one thing that was funny today. Everything else seemed far too serious for his taste. And he really didn´t like things that made him feel serious. They were no fun. Though he was already glad to be out of hospital. After the doctors had checked him from the inside out and the other way around, he had almost fled that building that called itself a place for healing. No more. He needed to get out, to do something, to find out what all this was about, in order to get better. No hospital could do that for him. Besides, he had to keep himself busy until Gus would call him, to tell him what he found out about this case, Lassie and Jules worked on. Until this happened he planned to do what he did best. To have another look at the crime scene.

The first thing he found when he reached the place though, was not the crime scene. It was his smoothy. The one he had dropped, when … he had to make himself finish this thought. When the ghost had knocked him over. Damn that was weird. How often had he said, there are no such things as ghosts? But now he was investigating the place where he had run into one. Literally.

It was no use to tell himself any longer that he was here to see the crime scene. He was here to see the place where he had met the ghost. To maybe find something that could explain why this had happened. If it had happened. But somehow he already knew that there was no denial. He had felt it. He could still feel it, dammit. The touch of the spirit. The cold he had felt when it had happened. And something else. Something that went deeper than just some ectoplasma on his best apple jacks shirt. Something that was still clouding his mind.

Something had happened today. Not just some random person´s death. There was more to it. He had seen one ghost but Jules had said there were two dead people. Had the second ghost just taken another street? Why hadn´t he seen both of them? Damn this was weird. He used to fake things like this. Now it was real. It was freaking real.

But he knew he had to find out what it was. Because he could feel that it was freaking important that he solved this mystery. When the ghost had touched him he had gotten something from him. A knowledge about something. Something that was still buried in his mind. Maybe because his mind wasn´t able to cope with it because it was too strange. Too unbelievable to cope with it. But he had no choice. He just needed to know what it was if he didn´t want to run into this ghost over and over again in his dreams for the rest of his life.

He bowed down and picked up the empty cup of his smoothy. He sniffed it but there was nothing but the faint remains of mango-cherry flavor in it. Not that he really would have expected to smell some drugs in there. It hadn´t been drugs that brought this ghost to him. It had been some other force. Not a curse, he wouldn´t go that far, but something similar. Oh yeah, no joke, it was as serious as that. Good that he hadn´t told Gus this idea. He would have left town for a business meeting or something else that he could produce short handed, if he had known that this could be a potential curse-case.

Shawn frowned when something seemed to switch in his head. Curse-case. This word had managed this switch. It had something to do with the second victim. He suddenly knew that. It was no vision that told him that. Just because he had seen a ghost didn´t mean that he suddenly was a real psychic. It was just a good old brainstorm that had come to him. Of course, the second victim. But was it a victim? For some reason he wasn´t so sure about that. Jules had said there was a second body. She hadn´t said it was a second victim. Did this make any sense? Shawn wasn´t sure.

Following an intuition he placed himself at the exact same spot where he had been standing when the ghost had knocked him over. He stood there and tried to listen. For what exactly he didn´t know. People were walking around him, without paying attention and he just stood there and listened. Listened to the inner voice that was sometimes enlightening him, when he was lack of clues. How could the second dead person be no victim? Why hadn´t there been a second ghost? And why had Lassie said that there was no case? Those had been his words. _This isn´t even a case anymore. We already covered everything up._

But this was a question Gus would answer him. As soon as he called him he would tell him what he´d found out. That was not what Shawn was concerned about. He would get his information. He just felt that there was much more about this than just some simple facts that stood in a case-file. Two dead people. One ghost. Two dead people. One of them a victim, the other one a … what?

His cell phone started to ring and he jumped. Dammit. He really needed to calm down.

„Gus." he answered the call.

„No, Shawn it´s me." Jules voice greeted him.

„Jules."

„I´m glad you´re better. Are you still in hospital?"

„No. No, I´m out. I … take a walk. You know, thinking things through."

„Hmhm. Listen, Gus told me you were troubled because of this case. I just thought … Carlton doesn´t want you to get involved but … The case is closed anyway so I guess it can´t hurt anyone."

„What was it?" he asked her.

„It was a serial killer." she said.

What? Shawn wanted to say something but instead he just kept listening.

„He was a hitman. Rufus Dempsey was his name. He was a professional killer who took assignments from everybody who paid enough money for the job. He already killed twelve people before we got to him yesterday."

„Guess our poor jogger picked the lucky thirteen." Shawn heard himself mumble.

„Yeah." Juliet agreed. „Anyway, there was a traffic patrol driving this street when he shot his latest victim, said jogger, Mr. George Ripley. The officers cornered Dempsey. He refused to give up and they were forced to open fire at him."

„He was the second dead guy." Shawn understood.

„Right."

„That´s why he was no victim." he mumbled.

„What?"

„Nothing. Is there anything more to it?"

„No." she said a little startled. „Do _you_ think there is something more?"

„I don´t know." he admitted. „Probably not. I tell you when I found out."

She replied with an uncertain: „Okay."

He said his good bye and hung up. Now this was a start into the right direction. But there was still something missing. Something that was still buried in his mind. A dead serial killer. Maybe he was lucky that he hadn´t run into this guy´s ghost. He didn´t want to think what _his_ touch would have done to him.

„Spencer." he heard a familiar voice calling. He turned around and faced Lassiter, who just walked down the street. „What are you doing here?" the detective asked him.

„Just looking around." Shawn answered still a little absent minded. He noticed that he still had the smoothy cup in his hand and raised it to show Lassiter what he had done so far. The detective frowned confused for a second. Shawn threw the cup in the next wastebasket.

„And what are you doing here?" he gave the question back at Lassiter.

„Just dropped by to have another look over the crime scene." the detective said. „Guster told me that you … _felt_ something odd about this case. So I wanted to make sure we didn´t overlook anything."

Shawn raised both eyebrows at this. „Did you just tell me you went out after I gave you a hint?" he asked.

Lassiter gave him a face. „Don´t flatter yourself too much." he said. „But yeah. We might have our differences from time to time … but there is no point in denying that you provided us with rather helpful information in the past."

Shawn almost couldn´t believe what he heard. Had the circumstances been different, he would have taken advantage of this opportunity and maybe asked Lassiter to give him this in writing. But he really didn´t feel like joking today.

„And Guster seemed to be pretty serious about this whole … ghost thing you had." Lassiter added to his speech.

„So am I." Shawn said, trying to fight back the shiver that wanted to come over him once again.

„Are you all right?" Lassiter asked him.

„I´m fine." Shawn claimed but he wasn´t. Not really.

Lassiter nodded. „Listen, Shawn." he said. „I was about to check the appartement of the jogger when I saw you standing here. You can join me if you want. Since I won´t be able to keep you from following me anyway."

Shawn just nodded in agreement and allowed Lassiter to lead the way. He was still shaking. Something had gotten him pretty bad just now. It felt like he was getting a really nasty cold. If that was how it was like to be in contact with ghosts, then he was really happy that Ghost Whisperer was just a creation of fiction. No human being would be able to stand that over a longer period of time.

But this had been about a serial killer after all. Maybe ghosts like that had a stronger effect. But wait. He hadn´t touched the killer ghost. He had only touched his victim´s ghost. He had never seen the killer´s ghost. And he could count himself lucky for that, otherwise … yeah, what? What would have happened in that case? Something pretty bad. Something worse than just a shudder and a splash of ectoplasma on his shirt.

For some reason Chucky came to his mind. Could that be the reason why he didn´t see a second ghost? Because it had already slipped into something to safe his bloodthirsty soul from vanishing? But, no. That was ridiculous. Chucky was just a character in a film. A pretty ridiculous film. The idea of a murderer´s sole that slipped into a puppet to survive death was as ridiculous as … as a ghost running down the street and knocking over a man that claimed to be a psychic for a living. Still Shawn was pretty sure that there had been no puppet at hand when this Rufus Dempsey dude had been shot. Only the cops who had shot him.

Shawn froze in his steps for a moment. But no. He remembered his own crash with the jogger´s ghost. If the killer´s ghost had touched one of the officer´s there would have been something on this man´s uniform. Some of the ghost´s ectoplasma. Shawn had seen the two guys. There had been nothing like that on either of them.

„That´s it, Shawn." Lassiter said and opened the door of the victim´s appartement. „Right in here."

Shawn looked up into the detective´s eyes for a moment and there was something odd about the look Lassiter gave him. He couldn´t put his finger on it though but this gaze just didn´t seem like the man he knew. Plus he had called him Shawn. Two times already. This was not like his usual Lassie.

Shawn looked at the door again but Lassiter had already entered the appartement without waiting for him. The fake psychic shook his head. What, was he getting paranoid now? He so needed a vacation. He made himself focus and followed Lassiter inside to have a look around. It was a usual sitting room he saw. A sofa, a table, a TV. Usual furniture. Really nothing special at all.

„What are we looking for up here, Lassie?" he asked while he was looking around.

Behind him the door was closed. He turned around and saw two things at once. The first one was Lassiter aiming his gun at him. The second one was Gus´ lifeless body lying on the floor next to the door. There was a small hole in his forehead, a single line of blood running down from it. It had crossed the space between his eyes, which were still halfway open, and ran over his cheek like a bloody tear. Shawn winced at the cruel sight and skipped backwards, a silent cry escaping his throat.

Lassiter just stared at him with cold blue eyes. Eyes that were no longer the soft eyes of the man Shawn had known for all these years. And in this moment a picture came up in Shawn´s head. He saw coffee. Coffee all over Lassiter´s shirt. A splash big enough to disguise a splash of something else. Something that was much thicker than coffee.

A smile formed on the detective´s lips when he noticed the realisation creep into Shawn´s head. It was a smile of someone who knew he had won. The evil smile of a murderer that had somehow managed it to escape his own death. A professional murderer who had now the perfect disguise to keep up his bloody business for a very long time. By hiding his evil soul in the body of the head detective of the S.B.P.D. And the only thing left for him to do, was eliminating the only person who still knew about this. The only person who could have exposed him. A certain fake psychic who had happened to have the first real vision of his life.

Lassiter/Dempsey pulled the trigger.


End file.
